


Roommates

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aromantic, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking care of people is one of Darcy's things. Apparently that extends to muscly archer guys who show up on her couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roommates

Darcy took care of people. That was one of her things. That was why she had sort of postponed going back and finishing out her degree, instead continuing to “intern” for Jane for two years.

It was how she ended up with Erik on her couch after the whole thing in London, prompting her to keep her flat long after she'd intended to move back to the US.

So when she came out of her bedroom about a week after she'd moved back to Willowdale to see a man dressed in black asleep face-down on her couch, she made him bacon and eggs and coffee instead of calling the police.

This was, of course, aided by the message on her voicemail from Erik telling her that this was a friend of his who needed a place to crash for a night or two while he decompressed or something, and that she got it _before_ she found said man asleep on her couch.

His name was Clint, he explained as he ate, part of the whole Avengers-slash-SHIELD thing. He'd been in Puente Antiguo, which explained why he seemed vaguely familiar. He'd suffered similar mind-fucking to Erik, which explained how Erik knew him.

He stayed longer than a night or two.

He apparently had a farm somewhere, but he got lonely and needed some actual low-pressure human interaction, which was apparently where Darcy came in. Not that she minded, not really. He wasn't bad as a roommate went. He spent most of the time Darcy was at school out of the apartment- she didn't ask where he went and he didn't volunteer the information.

They got a larger apartment, splitting the rent and utilities evenly.

He had amazing arms and a fantastic ass. Watching him move boxes made the whole move entirely worthwhile.

When Darcy went out to a bar and ended up going home with random bar hookup, she opened the random bar hookup's front door in the morning to see Clint leaning against the wall opposite, arms folded, sunglasses on. He drove her home.

“That's not safe, you know,” he told her as she emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet, in search of a cup of coffee and maybe a PopTart or two.

He was sitting at the kitchen table looking at something on his tablet, with just a glance up at her.

She put the milk back in the fridge and let it close maybe a little heavier than she needed to. “What's that?” She picked up the mug and took it over to the table, setting it down before hooking the free chair out with her foot and slumping down into it.

“Going home with random strangers.” His blue eyes- bluer with dusty cerulean of his t-shirt- flicked up to look at her. “Especially when you don't tell anyone.”

“Says the guy who was 'random stranger what was passed out on my couch' when we first met.” Darcy looked over at the cupboard. She'd forgotten the PopTart, and getting up to get it seemed like an awful lot of work.

“I wasn't a random stranger, I knew Erik.”

“Yeah, but if I didn't check my phone before I got up?” She shook her head. “Random. Stranger. Besides, there's a reason I carry my TASER with me all the time. Did you follow me all night, or did you just home in on the tracking signal in the morning?”

He didn't answer that, just picked up the stylus that was sitting on the table beside his tablet and twirled it in his fingers. “Did you even have a good time?”

“Dancing was good. I like dancing.” The rest of it... “Drunken hookups are  _supposed_ to suck. It's like an audition, how much they suck and how the relative suckitude is handled determines whether or not there will be a sober trial-run.”

His wide grin split his face. “This is the biggest load of horseshit I've heard in a while.”

She shrugged, taking a drink of the hot, heavenly beverage in front of her. “Maybe, but it got me laid. My dry spell was drier than the bottom of the cinnamon jar.”

“Why didn't you just ask me?”

Darcy stared at him for a moment. “What, all, 'Hey, Clint, I'm horny. Come fuck me?' Yeah, 'cause roommates to fuck-buddies  _always_ works out.” She rolled her eyes.

He stared at her for a second. “Why not?”

“Well, apparently  _you've_ never seen sitcoms or romantic comedies.” He just continued giving her that look. “According to sitcoms, things get weird and awkward, and someone moves out. According to romantic comedies, feelings happen, and then things get awkward and weird.” She shrugged. “Either way, we'd be screwed.”

“The way you're talking, we wouldn't be screwed. My way sounds a lot more satisfying.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she grinned, shaking her head. “We're adults. It doesn't have to get weird.”

“That's what they always say!” She looked across at him for a long moment. “Okay, I just had terrible drunken sex and I'm a bit hungover, so at the very least we should table this discussion for later.”

He picked up his tablet and pushed his chair back, standing up and stretching. The muscles in his arms and shoulders worked visibly under his t-shirt, and the hem rode up to display a thin stripe of abs that just wouldn't quit. Slightly hungover or not, that was one sight Darcy _never_ got tired of looking at. His eyes were trained on her. “I can promise you one thing.”

Completely unashamed, she raised her gaze to his. “What's that?”

“It won't be terrible.”

\---

She didn't go out for random hookups after that. Weekend nights were spent in front of the TV with pizza and beer, sometimes pie. Clint was a big fan of apple pie.

They took turns picking what to watch. Clint usually chose The Walking Dead or some other zombie thing, and Darcy marathoned Doctor Who.

It was a Walking Dead night. Darcy eyed the three pizza crusts left on her paper plate- neither she nor Clint were too big on doing the dishes- and looked down to where her roommate was sitting on the other end of the couch, her feet in his lap. “I think I'm done. You want anything else?”

He lifted his plate off her shins, letting her swing her feet down to the floor. “I'm good.”

She took her plate and empty bottle into the kitchen, setting them both on the counter. Running a hand through her hair, she went back into the doorway to the living room and studied Clint for a second. He was watching Carl make himself into zombie bait- _again_ \- and raised one hand to rub along his jaw.

That did it, watching the shift of his arm muscles even with just that movement. “Hey,” she said, pulling those blue eyes over to her. “You want to have that discussion now?” This could either go extremely well or extremely poorly. She was _really_ hoping it was the first one.

His wide grin slowly spread across his face. “Which discussion is that?”

She walked over to him, settling herself down on the couch cushion closely enough that her thigh nudged up against his. “The one where we're both consenting adults and we can totally have sex without things getting weird.”

He faked an exaggerated stretch, arms up over his head, and when he brought them down, one arm went around Darcy's shoulders. He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she started laughing. “Smooth, Clint.”

“What can I say? I know what the ladies like.”

“Does it involve turning off the TV?” She gave the zombie hordes the side-eye. “'Cause I have a feeling I'm going to look over at just the wrongest time, and you'll be doing something with your tongue, and then I'll just need to go.”

Clint's arm slipped away from her shoulders as he leaned down to grab the remote from the floor beside his foot. The TV went off, and when he straightened again, he nudged her with his elbow. “Get up for a second.”

She stood, not really moving away from the couch, and watched appreciatively as he quickly shed his shirt. He shifted until he was lying on his back and held out his arms, waggling his eyebrows again.

Darcy rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but joined him on the couch. She ended up straddling his hips, sitting back to trail her fingers over all those pretty muscles.

“I'm-”

She cut him right off. “Hush. I'm busy.”

His mouth closed into a smirk. He seemed content to lie there and let her trace the sharp lines of his upper body, but eventually, he reached out and tickled her. She collapsed against him, laughing. “Ouch!” Clint protested, stopping right away. “You have sharp elbows.” Her elbow had glanced down his ribs.

She grinned at him, shifting forward a little. “Serves you right,” she replied as his hands came to rest on her lower back. Darcy tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down into his eyes. She needed to shift forward just a little more, but then her lips came down on his.

He combed her hair out of her face, calloused hand coming to settle at the nape of her neck. The kiss was slow, toe-curlingly hot, and went on and on. At last she slipped her lips from his, trailing down his neck. When she flicked her tongue over the spot just under his ear, he bucked up his hips against her.

She sat up, eyebrows raised, a particularly self-satisfied smile on her face. “That was interesting.”

Clint's blue eyes were locked on hers. “I'm a bit sensitive there.” His voice was husky, his eyes dark.

“I can tell. Wonder if you're that sensitive anywhere else?” She took the time to pull her own shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor before scooting back just a little and leaning down again. Darcy licked her lips as she looked down at him for a moment, then leaned forward and set her mouth to exploring the broad expanse of his upper body.

Down over his impressive pectoral muscles- apparently being an archer had done him a _lot_ of favors. Her tongue brushed against his nipple and he let out a soft hiss. She lifted her head to smirk at him before bending to her task again. When she closed her teeth gently around the tight bud, he bucked against her again, and then she abruptly found herself on her back looking up into Clint's blue eyes.

“That was sudden,” came out a little breathy. He was braced on his hands, his lean hips cradled by her thighs, the hard proof of his desire hot against her center even through their clothes. He ground himself against her a little, and Darcy found herself making a soft whimpering noise.

It was his turn for a self-satisfied grin, and he lowered his head to nip gently at her lips before closing his mouth over hers for another spine-tingling kiss. She was unashamedly rocking into him, seeking friction for the heat that was gathering between her legs.

The kiss went on and on, and at last he lifted his head. “I bet this feels better with no clothes on.” He rolled his hips against her again, and she nodded, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

In a second he was standing, undoing his pants and letting them drop to the floor. Darcy pushed her own pants and panties down, wriggling a little as she pushed them down and then kicked them off.

Clint stooped to pull a small foil square out of his discarded jeans, and then he was between her legs again, resting the condom just under her clavicle.

“You walk around with a condom in your pocket?” Darcy asked a touch incredulously.

“I live in the hope that you'll throw off all your clothes and say, 'Take me, Clint!'” He slid one hand around underneath her and when he came back out, he hooked his finger and thumb around the center of her bra, pulling it away. She hadn't even really felt him undo it.

“You learn that in the circus?” she asked with a bit of an incredulous smile.

“I'm good with my hands.” He cupped one of her breasts, thumb brushing gently over her pebbled nipple.

Darcy picked up the condom and opened it, and he went up on his knees to let her roll it down over his cock. She was grinning as her eyes flicked back up to his face. “Take me, Clint.” She'd meant it to come out sassy, but it was more breathy and romance novel-y than anything else.

Still, though, he lowered himself down to her, one hand braced against the cushion beside her, the other guiding the head of his cock to her soaked entrance. He teased his way into her pussy, pushing in just a little before pulling out, going a little deeper each time.

“Stop teasing!” She locked her feet together behind Clint's ass, pulling him in. She had enough time to see that wide grin again before his mouth came down on hers. He rocked in to meet every roll of her hips, an intense, deep rhythm that had her digging her fingers into his biceps as she held on. Her feet fell to either side of him, opening herself wider, _deeper_.

Clint lifted his head, and she opened her eyes to see him looking down at her. “Hold on,” he murmured, sliding his arms under her. And then suddenly he was on his back again, holding her tightly to his chest. He released her almost immediately and she straightened up, grabbing the back of the couch for balance. “Lean back, babe,” came the low instruction, and she leaned back on her hands.

The new angle was perfect, his cock dragging over that one incredible spot as she moved herself back and forth on him. Her head fell back, eyes closing, and when she felt the blunt tip of one finger slide over her clit, she let out a long moan.

It wasn't long before the incredible heat started to spiral inward, tighter and tighter. “Clint, I- ooh- Clint!” His name was practically yelled as she shattered around him.

She straightened up as she came down from her high, and his hands came up to her breasts, his blue eyes following the way they bounced as she moved on top of him. The rough pads of his fingers were doing little more than brushing against her sensitive nipples, but it felt _incredible_.

He lifted his hips to meet her as she rode him hard, her ass meeting his pelvis with an audible _smack_ every time she brought herself down on his cock.

It was so easy to lose herself in his gentle touch, such a contrast with the way their bodies joined and parted. Darcy's fingers drifted down to her clit, rolling quickly over the sensitive bead of flesh. She was getting close again, she felt herself starting to clamp down on him, and that was enough for him to drive himself deep inside her pussy, his muscles straining and stilling with his orgasm.

Clint was breathing hard as he settled back on the couch, his touch becoming firmer. Her head fell back again as he rolled both nipples between nimble fingers and thumbs, and soon she let out a soft cry as she came again.

She slumped forward onto his chest, burying her nose in his neck and breathing in the faint, spicy scent of his bodywash. “That,” she said after a few long moments, “was definitely not horrible.”

His hands stroked over her back and hips, and she felt the slight shake of his chest under her as he chuckled. “Did I pass the audition?”

She closed her eyes, snuggling closer. “You'll do. We can totally have another trial-run later if you want.”

He turned to face her, lips moving over her forehead. “I thought things were going to get awkward and weird.”

“We've got at least a couple weeks before that happens, and I plan to take advantage of every second of that.”

 


End file.
